


Bits and Pieces

by Naralanis



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Fluff I guess, I don't know man, Post-Crisis, Reconciliation, but like, cute stuff and Lena and her boxes, steps to get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29358492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/pseuds/Naralanis
Summary: Lena and Kara are not okay yet, but they will be. In the meantime, Lena keeps accumulating random little things of Kara's that end up in her possession. She's going to return them. She will.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 29
Kudos: 538





	Bits and Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I don't even know. This is purely, 100% grass-fed, grade-A word vomit. Enjoy?

Lena doesn't exactly know how or when it came to be, but the fact is that she is mindlessly emptying her dishwasher on a rainy October evening when she comes across something rather unexpected. 

The _something_ is a mug—a travel mug, to be precise, scratched and battered to such a degree she can barely make out its original red colour. It's covered in grooves and dents of varying depths. On the side, it sports some gluey, sticky residue Lena knows was left behind by a sticker from the National City Zoo, shaped like a koala head, about the size of her palm. 

Lena knows this because the mug belongs to Kara—she has seen it just about a million times, in just about a million trips to Noonan's, because _I'm saving the planet, Lena! Think of the turtles!_

Lena has precisely zero idea of how the mug found its way to her apartment, much less into her dishwasher, but her first instinct is not to ponder the matter further, oh no. No, Lena Luthor's first thought is to get onto her expensive Italian ceramic tile on her hands and knees so she can stick her head into the machine and search for any remnants of that damned koala sticker. 

She finds it in a matted blob, stuck to the bottom of the washer in a gloopy mess, and without giving it another thought, Lena picks it up and fairly tosses it up onto the counter. It makes a muted little splat as it lands next to Kara’s mug. She briefly looks for the mug's lid, but interestingly enough, that's nowhere to be found. 

As she rises, Lena spares her counter a look, and the picture that greets her is funny, a little odd, and totally incongruous. Sitting on pristine granite are exactly three, and only three things: Kara's dented mug, the salvaged remains of a sticker, and an empty glass of Macallan Lena had just finished before the dishwasher took her attention. Lena stares at those three items for quite some time—it is weird to have anything on that expanse of white granite, after all—just until the kettle's shrill whistle knocks her out of her trance. 

No longer in the mood for tea, she shuts it off with a huff and goes back to her staring. 

The sticker—whatever is left of it—goes in the trash; it simply cannot be salvaged, and Lena isn't even sure why she went to the trouble of trying to find it in the first place. Probably so it wouldn't damage her washer. _Yes_ , she tells herself, _that's why_. 

The glass is refilled and cradled against her chest as she ponders; the comfort of holding it close is almost as effective as drinking it. 

The mug, however, presents another problem. Lena can't just put it away; she'd just forget about it. And she can't just call Kara to come and pick it up at—she glances at her clock—nearly nine in the evening. Maybe things are better between them, after the whole Lex-Leviathan-a-whole-damn-new-world thing, but they're not exactly “come over right now, you forgot your mug” better. That's partly why it's so strange the mug is even here—Kara hasn't done much than linger at her balcony for a few minutes in months. 

Lena won't impose—she won't, she can't. So, she glares at the thing taking up space on her counter and makes plans to return it tomorrow. 

The mug stays. 

* * *

Lena has forgotten all about Kara's mug a few weeks later – the blonde apparently has a new one, this time blue with a Golden Retriever sticker from one National City's animal shelters – when she finds yet another odd little thing of Kara's in her possession. 

This time, she knows exactly how it got into her house—she brought it in herself, in her purse, from her office. More specifically, from her desk, after Kara had come in for a brief interview at Andrea's request. 

The interview was awkward and stilted, because that's where they're at, right now. Things _are_ better, and they _are_ improving every day, but they're not quite at the level of banter and warmth they used to have. Kara was polite and kind, if a little distant, but at least she didn't look at Lena like she was about to burst into tears at any moment anymore. And Lena, for her part, respectfully kept that distance, trying to smile even when the lulls in conversation hung as a silence as heavy as lead between them. She'd endure. 

The _it_ she has accidentally brought home is a pen, more specifically the pen Kara had used to scrawl some notes on her worn reporter pad and subsequently placed on Lena's desk as she rifled through her handwritten pages. Lena has no idea how exactly she pilfered the thing--it's one of those gel pens and a ridiculously bright purple, not exactly indistinguishable from her Montblancs. 

It's a cheap little thing and Lena has no use for it. Kara probably won't miss it either. She could just... throw it away. 

But it's _Kara's._ So, Lena places it next to the dented mug—still sitting on her counter—and resolves to just... think about it later. 

In the morning, as she takes her coffee, she spares another glance at her counter. _This probably qualifies as_ _clutter;_ she thinks with a sip of her bitter brew. 

* * *

They meet for coffee at Noonan's again, and it feels better. Not as awkward, not as stilted. Lena manages to make a joke or two as she picks at her pastry, and Kara's face scrunches up into a smile that blunts the rough edges they're still dealing with. Lena hates to admit just how much that smile brightens her day. 

It's good, it _feels_ good to be there again. Familiar, warm. It finally feels like they're moving in the right direction, Lena thinks, as she watches Kara devour no fewer than six donuts in one sitting, now _knowing_ why she eats the way she does. 

So, of course, it has to end right then and there, with a deafening explosion and a rain of shattered glass. Lena's ears are ringing from the sound—great, now she has to add _tinnitus_ to the list of shit she has to deal with—and she is momentarily disoriented; there's people running, people screaming, just a lot of people in general, in all directions. 

She glances at Kara just in time, just in the right moment to see the suit materializing over the bright yellow plaid button-down she had been wearing, and then it's like _poof,_ there she is. Supergirl. 

“Sorry,” comes out still in Kara's voice, a meek, apologetic tone that Lena is definitely not used to hearing from the Girl of Steel, and the contrast kind of throws her for a loop. “ _Something_ uh _..._ came up.” 

Lena blinks owlishly, then jumps at a piece of debris falling just a little too close. Kara—Supergirl just made a joke. Lena stares some more and the hero seems to shuffle on her feet, shifting her weight in nervousness, and then bizarrely everything just _clicks_ in her brain. 

“Uh,” Lena mumbles, her mind droning _Kara-Supergirl-Kara-Supergirl-Kara_ in a loop because this is just. Completely disorienting. More than the destruction. “Go get ‘em, tiger?” 

She kind of wishes the floor would open up and swallow her whole. _Go get ‘_ _em_ _, tiger?_

Her awkward words seem to have the desired effect, however. Kara smiles brightly at her, seemingly oblivious or at least thoroughly unconcerned with the destruction that is very much still happening. 

“Great! I'll uh, see you later, OK?” 

Lena can only nod dumbly—as soon as she does, Kara's expression hardens; her brows furrow and her entire posture seems to change, and just like that, it's not Kara wearing the Supergirl costume in front of her, but the Girl of Steel herself, and just... _wow._

Supergirl blasts off, ready to tackle the threat, leaving the dust of the café as she speeds up, up, and away to deal with what looks to be a rogue alien of some kind. Lena can't really tell, because she can't really devote much attention to that kind of detail, because she's just witnessed her friend transform into a superhero in real-time right in front of her for the first time ever, and also because Kara just left her glasses on the table. Just like that. 

People are still running out of Noonan's, though now that has less to do with the destruction and much more with the eagerness to see Supergirl pound some alien into the pavement with her fists, more likely. 

Someone calls out to her, but Lena ignores them, reaching for the glasses sitting so innocuously at the table. They seemed a little too important to just leave out in the open--didn't that suit have any pockets for Supergirl to carry her glasses? Seemed like a major design flaw, considering they triggered the suit in the first place. 

Lena picks them up, and she's shocked at just how heavy the frames feel in her hands, but then she remembers one of their stilted conversations a few weeks ago, when Kara had pulled her glasses halfway down to stare at a suspicious-looking package addressed to Lena. 

Lead-lined, Lena thinks with wonder. To block Kara's x-ray vision. 

Without another thought, Lena wraps the glasses in a handkerchief and places them very carefully in her purse. Surely Kara will want these back--it's best she holds on to them for safekeeping. 

Kara never mentions her missing glasses. In fairness, Lena did forget to mention she has them, but the blonde shows up that very same day to check in on Lena at the yet _again_ newly-renamed L-Corp offices. She arrives as Kara Danvers, in a new plaid button-down, a ponytail, and a brand-new set of frames resting atop her nose. The new frames are a nice tortoiseshell pattern, and that understandably distracts Lena a little. 

Meanwhile, Kara's old pair has joined Lena's other little Kara-treasures in her penthouse. They are starting to take up a little too much space on her counter, so Lena finds a nice box to keep everything safe, just until whenever Kara deigns to retrieve everything. The box is of lacquered wood with a stylized sun on the lid. Lena doesn't remember where she got it, but she knows her interior designer would certainly throw a fit should they ever see it on her side table, because it does clash rather horribly with everything else in her apartment, but Lena finds she does not give a damn. 

* * *

Their next brunch seems like a much larger step forward. For starters, it's kind of a double-date. Well, not a double- _date,_ not really, just, a gathering in pairs, because Alex and Kelly will be joining them. So that's one thing. 

The other thing is, Lena's hosting it. In her penthouse. 

She doesn't really know how that came to be, really, but one day the four of them are, dare she say it, _hanging out_ at the DEO after hours when Kelly suggests it. Lena likes Kelly, she really does, but that didn't help her wince when Alex froze a little at the suggestion. Kara, however, beamed with the idea, practically vibrating in place with excitement. 

Lena doesn't want to put Alex out, but she also doesn't want to outright refuse—not when Kara seems so happy with the mere thought of all of them having brunch together—and she can't let Kara suggest her apartment because Lena doesn't know if she can withstand being in that space for a prolonged period of time without bursting into tears. 

So really, it's only out of self-preservation that she suggests her penthouse. Lena figures she'll be OK in the comfort of her own home, and any lingering awkwardness would prevent the other three from staying for too long. It's what's best for everybody. 

And so, Lena rearranges the vase of flowers on her counter for the millionth time—plumerias, because she is _weak_ , nearly shaking with nervousness as she waits for the doorbell. 

To her terror, Alex and Kelly arrive first. Lena can deal with Kelly, who has been nothing but friendly ever since they met, but she is unsure where she stands with the older Danvers sister and can't figure out how to act like a normal person around her without Kara as a buffer. 

“Hello!” Kelly greets her cheerfully with a hug. “We brought some bubbly for mimosas!” 

Lena smiles back, returning the hug very lightly, very aware of Alex's scrutinizing gaze. She doesn't mention she panic-bought about six different bottles of prosecco in increasingly ludicrous price-ranges last night; instead, she gratefully accepts the bottle Kelly's offering and practically runs into her own kitchen to put it in ice. 

She prays to a God she never really believed in that Kara can't hear her hammering heartbeat and think she's in some kind of trouble. 

Kelly is, again, _re_ ally nice, and launches into a series of polite, conversational questions to keep Lena occupied like she can read the tension that rolls off her girlfriend's shoulders in waves—which, considering her profession, she probably can—and keeps _oohing an_ d _aahing_ over Lena's sparse decorations. 

After an eternity, there's a knock, and even if they weren't waiting for her specifically, Lena would have known Kara's knock anywhere. She rushes to the door—and completely misses Alex's questioning brow and the look she shares with Kelly because she's practically slamming it into the wall as she opens it. 

Kara's there, in dark-wash jeans and a baseball tee and _is tha_ _t_ _a_ _beanie_? She's smiling, beaming really, seemingly completely unaware of Lena's previous near panic, and she's proudly holding a familiar-looking box with both hands. 

“Hi! Sorry I'm late, it was really windy coming from Dublin and it slowed me down a bit. The scones should still be hot, though!” 

Lena _does not_ miss the look that passes between Kelly and Alex this time, but she chooses to ignore it because Kara Danvers, her best friend, is standing there with fresh scones from Ireland and she feels like she's about to cry. She resolutely refuses to think about the last time Kara had flown all over the world to bring her favourite foods, and chooses instead to focus on just how warm and _content_ she feels right now, with Kara standing at her door, scones in hand and smile stretching from ear to ear. 

The brunch goes so smoothly, after that, Lena can't really remember why she was panicking earlier. Alex still sends her a few odd looks here and there, but _Kara_ is right here, smiling and chattering and it feels _so much_ like how things used to be, _before,_ that Lena chooses not to look this gift horse in the mouth too closely. 

They eat, they drink, they joke, and it feels almost natural. So natural, in fact, that Lena doesn't even register she's leaning way into Kara's space on the couch a couple of hours later. Not until Kara removes her beanie and runs a hand through mussed blonde locks with a happy little sigh, her other arm coming to rest over Lena's shoulders like it belongs there. 

“This is fun,” Kara declares with a grin, and Lena is only just processing her words, because right now she's a little too focused on those messy blonde waves and the arm—the very, _very_ warm arm— still resting on her shoulders. “We should do this again soon.” 

“Yep,” Lena agrees with a little squeak that draws another quizzical raised eyebrow from Alex. “Definitely.” 

Alex looks like she's about to interject, but Kelly interrupts with a happy squeal of agreement. “Yes! Though we can host next time. Double-date brunch could be our new Sunday thing.” 

“Yes! Then I can host it after!” Kara echoes. 

And so plans are made for next week at Kelly's and Alex's place, with Kara ecstatic, Alex a little taciturn, and Lena a bit thrown off by just how smoothly it all just went down. She's still reeling a little, to be quite honest, when they say their goodbyes—Kara lingering a bit longer than everyone else but still walking out the door a little shyly—and then she sees it. 

Kara left her hat—that beanie—on her couch. It's just there—it's a mustard yellow and it has a little giraffe patch on it that is quite frankly adorable—and Lena takes a moment to just hold it to her chest, pretending it is still warm with Kara's body heat. 

A little shamefully, she lifts it to her face and takes a deep breath, and Lena can feel her ears going pink with heat as she recognizes the scent of Kara's fruity shampoo. 

As if angry at herself for that moment of weakness, Lena fairly shoves the hat into her Kara box—the literal one still at its post on her side table—and goes to bed trying to come up with any even remotely logical reasons why she hadn't just returned all of Kara's crap while the blonde was there. 

* * *

They never even get a chance to plan the next brunch, because on Wednesday morning, bright and early—I mean, Lena has _literally_ just walked into her office—there is an attack at L-Corp. 

It isn't the worst she's been through, all things considered; just some explosive device that didn’t even level Lena's entire floor. Her private office has been blown to smithereens, though, and she probably would have gone exactly the same way if Kara hadn’t been there dropping off some coffee and donuts. 

Kara had heard a clicking noise, and before Lena could ask her what the hell was going on, she was enveloped in blue and red as her office came down upon them. 

No one even got hurt—must people hadn't even arrived at the building yet, not even Jess—so Lena doesn't understand why she can't get her heartbeat under control, or why her lungs seem incapable of drawing enough air in. She's trembling (shaking violently, actually) in Kara's arms, and Kara—well, Supergirl— just holds onto her a tad too tightly as she holds a hand to her ear, speaking into a concealed transmitter with a worried expression. 

“Alex, send a team to L-Corp. I'm taking Lena home.” 

Lena wants to protest, she does; she has work to do, Kara has work to do, Supergirl has work to do, they all have work to do and Lena has to rebuild her office so she can work, so really, it's best they get on with their day as soon as possible. 

But she can't stop shaking long enough to form coherent sentences, and so, without another word, Kara scoops her up in her arms and takes off from what's left of Lena's balcony. 

Lena has always been afraid of flying, but Kara holds onto her so tightly, and she's so warm, Lena can feel her body relaxing by degrees as they dash through the sky. 

It doesn't feel like a particularly fast flight, but within moments they're touching down on Lena's penthouse balcony and in what feels like seconds, Kara is sitting her down on her pristine white couch with a soft sigh. 

“Hey, hey,” she whispers, a soothing hand rubbing circles on Lena's back. “It's OK, Lena, you're OK.” 

Lena wants to nod, to say something, perhaps a snarky retort on how she's used to attempts on her life by this juncture, but she finds that she can't form the words; her body seizes against her will, and if Kara had not sat her down, she'd probably be falling flat on the ground she's trembling so damn much. 

She doesn't know why she's so affected; this is hardly her first rodeo, with or without Supergirl or Kara there to pick up the pieces. But whatever the reason, she feels her body shake uncontrollably, fear and the sheer guilty relief of the near miss washing over her like icy water. 

Kara seems to understand Lena either cannot or is unwilling to speak. She does nothing more than continue her soothing gestures and murmurs, her voice as soft as the sturdy arms that seem to be all that is holding Lena together at the moment. 

Lena drifts to sleep with Kara's voice whispering in her ear and her hands softly brushing out her tight bun. Kara's presence is warm, solid, and _safe_ at her side, and Lena finds it almost too easy to succumb to the heaviness of her eyelids. 

She wakes with the sun of the late afternoon shining its fading rays on her face; a few more minutes, and it will be sunset. She's slept through the entire day, and Lena cannot remember when—if ever—she had last done that. She looks around for Kara, ignoring the pang of disappointment her obvious absence causes by reverting to logic—Kara has a job (or two, really) to get back to. She couldn't possibly stay to babysit Lena for an entire day. 

Lena moves to sit—Kara had been kind enough to prop her head up with pillows, and Lena feels remarkably well-rested, all things considered. Her blanket slides off her body as she shifts, and she idly catches it before it falls to the floor only to suddenly realize it's not a blanket at all. 

Her fingers grasp weakly, sleepily, at the most imaginably soft crimson fabric of Supergirl's cape. 

She tightens her grip, holding the cape with both hands now, and gives it an experimental stretch, and is at once mesmerized both by the surprising give and the unyielding resistance of the interwoven fibres; it feels surreal. _Alien_. 

The sun is fully set when she carefully folds the cape and puts it into her sun-box, resolving to call Kara first thing in the morning to return it. The glasses she could logic away, but there is no conceivable reason for Supergirl to go without her _cape._ It was ludicrous. 

* * *

Lena forgets about the cape. 

Well, she doesn't exactly _forget_ it, per se. She knows full-well it's still there, in that box, folded neatly into a perfect square. Sometimes, when Lena feels particularly weak, she'll open the box and run her fingers through the soft fabric, and she hates to admit how much that simple action, that simple feeling grounds her when she's feeling completely and utterly untethered. 

All of Kara's little treasures do that, and Lena has spent the last several weeks sorting through several other boxes—metaphorical ones, this time—to try and make sense of why these little pieces of Kara seem to connect her back to reality when she feels so empty she's about to just... float away. 

She means to talk to Kara about the cape, she really does, but the same night Kara left the cape in Lena's possession, Supergirl shows up on the evening news not-so-gently throwing a few thugs into DEO vans, looking as resplendent as always in red and blue. Lena surmises she must have spare capes. 

Still, she reasons, she probably shouldn't keep it. She should call Kara and return all the things she has come to cherish, all those bits and pieces that somehow just felt like little crumbs of Kara, of a friendship mended when they thought it had been broken beyond repair. 

Lena _has_ to return them. She doesn't like it, but keeping your best friends’ things around in a box unbeknownst to said best friend and then deriving fragments of joy just by having them in your possession seems downright deranged to her, if not completely and entirely pathetic. At best, it's a little creepy. 

And yet, the thought of returning Kara's belongings fills Lena with dread—almost like she's erasing the marks Kara has left—but even then, it doesn't panic her as much as the thought of _explaining_ just how she's come to collect everything (though she still has no explanation for the mug) and _why_ she didn't just return each item as soon as she realized she had it. 

In the end, Lena decides on the band-aid approach—the sooner she gets it done, the sooner she can hide under a nest of her stupidly high-thread count sheets and just... recover for a day or three. She calls Kara to the penthouse— _not_ on the communicator watch she still resolutely refuses to use—and waits anxiously for the knock that usually comes within minutes of summoning the Kryptonian. 

The knock comes, but not from where she expected. Rather stupidly, perhaps, Lena had not considered the balcony. Yet there is Kara, decked out in her Supergirl colours, waving brightly at her from behind her bulletproof glass. 

“Hi!” Kara greets as soon as she floats in, dropping gracefully to the floor when Lena closes the balcony door after her. “What's up? I was about to text you—you know that Thai place two blocks down? They _finally_ finished renovations and are opening next week! How about we take a lunch next Saturday to check it o--” 

“You left your cape.” Lena interrupts, and she wants to say more, but she's currently staring at what has to be Kara's spare cape and the blonde looks at her confused for a few moments before the pieces click into place. 

“My cape? Oh!” she exclaims, twirling in place as if to show Lena she's not capeless. “Yeah, that's right, I left it here, um, for you. You looked cold.” 

Lena gapes a little. “I have blankets,” she says dumbly. 

Kara's ears go a little pink. “Yeah, well, right. But you were, you were holding onto me so tight, I just didn't wanna wake you. So, uh. I left it. Don't worry,” she says, throwing the cape she's currently wearing over her shoulder a bit dramatically. “I've got extras!” 

Suddenly Kara's eyes widen, as if she's overtaken by an idea. “Wait, I know! I can keep it here—if that's alright with you, that is. It's good to have extras in multiple places, you know?” 

“Um,” is all Lena can say for a moment, because _that makes no sense. “_ You also left your glasses.” 

Kara's brows furrow, and her face scrunched up like that is entirely too... too cute, too adorable, and just plain too much for Lena. “My glasses?” 

Lena practically speed walks to her Kara-box, feeling the heat of the blonde's gaze following her every movement with undisguised curiosity. 

Kara says nothing when Lena practically slams the box onto the coffee table, but she does flinch a little at the sound, but her expression is completely unreadable. Lena feels a little bit bad about almost violently throwing the box down, but she finds that her hands are now shaking and she doesn’t really understand why—she can tell she is freaking Kara out not, because the blonde looks to be at a complete loss, and Lena is beginning to feel like a complete lunatic. 

“Lena, what--” 

“Your things!” Lena practically shouts, snapping the box open with far more force than she intends, and she catches Kara's grimace from the corner of her eye. "Your things keep—you keep leaving your things with me... they're, they're _your_ things, _your_ cape, _your_ glasses, _your_ stupid hat and, and...” 

She takes a moment to breathe, running out of steam, and her eyes inadvertently lock with Kara's, and the sheer confusion she sees in those baby blues is just enough to knock the wind out of her sails. Lena waves limply at the open box and its scattered contents, trying to get more words together that at least make a lick of sense. 

“Your things,” she says again, dumbly, trying to ignore the questioning raise of Kara's brow. “You should have them back. I'm sorry I've kept them for so long, I swear I meant to return them.” 

Kara says nothing for a few moments—she just flicks her gaze from Lena to the box and back, and every second that passes in silence makes Lena want to sink into her expensive marble floors. Finally, after an eternity, Kara crosses the living room—as tentatively as a new-born deer—and picks up the yellow beanie sitting atop Lena's secret treasures. 

The blonde studies the hat for a long moment, and then runs her fingers lightly over the rest of the box's contents, a little smile tugging at her lips that Lena can't quite decipher. 

“When did I leave this?” she asks, raising the beanie in her hands. Lena lets out a heavy breath. 

“At brunch,” croaks, voice heavy and throat tight for reasons she cannot fathom at the moment. "With Alex and Kelly, when you brought —” she swallows dryly “—when you brought scones, from... from...” 

“From Dublin,” Kara finishes for her, smile widening. “I remember. What about the glasses?” 

“Noonan's,” Lena breathes, and it's easier this time. “We were having coffee, and that um, that alien...” 

“Crashed through the wall,” Kara completes again, that little crinkle between her eyes coming out full force. “Very rude of him, seriously. I was having a really nice time.” 

Lena can't help but smile a little at that, not when she can physically feel the tension leaving her shoulders and giving way to something far more comfortable. “So was I,” she admits, and she is glad she does, because Kara's lips tug even wider into a beaming, full-teethed grin. 

“And what about this?” the blonde asks, reaching for that ridiculous sparkly purple pen Lena has come to cherish like it's her whole entire world. 

“Ah,” she mutters, feeling her cheeks heat up. “You left it at my office, when... when you came in for that interview. After I had to rename L-Corp again.” 

Kara's eyes turn a little wistful, and Lena can imagine why. Like Lena, she's probably thinking of their first meeting—a lifetime ago, a whole other world ago—when Lena had just taken over LuthorCorp. 

“I remember,” Kara says fondly, her grin never wavering for one second. The gaze she turns on Lena now is nothing short of amazed, even proud, and it makes Lena's heartbeat stutter in her chest. 

“You’re so incredible, Lena. To do all of that, go through it all over again, I... you're _amazing._ I wanted to say it, then, I really, really did, but... but...” 

Lena takes Kara's hand, and it's an impulsive moment—their fingers intertwine, hands closing over that silly little pen. But it feels warm, and so, so right, and Kara makes no move to end it. “I know,” she says, and she does; she sees their path so much more clearly now. “You weren't ready, Kara. Neither was I.” 

Kara lets out a little laugh. “I wanted to be.” 

Lena can only smile at that, because well, so did she. She had wanted so desperately to rebuild what they once had, what they had destroyed—what _she_ had gone to great lengths to pulverize in the wake of her hurt. 

“So. There,” she says, letting go of Kara and nudging the box towards her, gently. “Your stuff. The only one I don't have an explanation for is your mug—I have no idea how it ended up here. I put it in the dishwasher for some reason, so I'm afraid the sticker is well beyond... Kara?” 

It's dark in her living room, but Lena can absolutely still make out the tips of Kara's ears turning a rather vibrant shade of pink. “Kara?” 

“Um,” Kara croaks, and Lena can see plainly just how red her face is. “I might have an idea.” 

“Oh?” Lena quips, eyebrow raised. Kara's shuffling from foot to foot like a child about to be scolded, but Lena is too curious to be stopped now. “Care to share?” 

Kara bites at her lip, cheeks flushing even further. She mumbles, mutters, but eventually stammers it out: 

“I left it. On your balcony.” She blinks, eyes owlishly wide. “You must have picked it up and, uh, brought it in.” 

“My... my balcony?” Lena asks, incredulous, but even as she poses the question a snippet of a whisky-addled memory flashes suddenly in her mind like the striking of a match: shortly after Lex's funeral, stumbling over to her balcony to cry all that was left of her tears. She can remember it now, swaying on her feet and clutching her Macallan so tightly she feared the glass might just shatter in her hands, then leaning over the edge of her balcony and taking no comfort in the beautiful setting of the sun over National City. 

The red mug had caught her eye, then. In her drunken state, she had stared at it for a whole eternity, and then brought it inside for... For _what,_ she doesn't exactly know. All she remembers is finding the damn thing in her dishwasher. 

Still, that sudden memory doesn't answer her main question. 

“And how... how did it end up on my balcony, Kara?” 

Kara still looks like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, but there is some real fear hiding behind that glimmering azure, and Lena really wants to wipe it away somehow. So she grasps Kara's hand again, and this time she holds on tight, so, so tight. 

“Tell me,” she asks, her voice too soft for any human to hear, but not for Kara, never too soft for Kara. “Please.” 

Kara's shine, and Lena can only hope it isn’t with tears, but the blonde is smiling again. 

“After, uh. After Lex, well,” she coughs out a little laugh. “After _everything,_ really, I just... I liked to come here, sometimes, at night. When I couldn't sleep—there was just. There was just so much going on in my head, so I'd come and sit on your balcony with some coffee. I'd sit and listen.” 

“Listen?” Lena asks, even though she has a feeling she already knows. “Listen to what?” 

“To you,” Kara whispers. “To your heartbeat. I just wanted—I _needed_ to know that you were safe, that you were alright.” She pauses, looking at their clasped hands, seeming surprised that Lena has made no move to let her go. “Sorry.” 

Lena can only chuckle, really, even as she feels tears burning in her own eyes. “Sorry?” she quips, trying to hide the thickness of her voice by clearing her throat. It doesn't work too well. “What on Earth have you got to be sorry about?” 

Kara laughs, and then Lena laughs, and they're both laughing and crying and it's so _stupid_ to feel this much, all because of some _stupid_ dented mug and a _stupid_ pen and hat and cape and glasses in a _stupid, stupid_ box. 

“You're crying.” Kara points out unhelpfully, reaching out to wipe at Lena's tears. Lena has to roll her eyes. 

“So are you, Captain Obvious. Is that your new superhero name?” 

Kara shakes her head, looking so fondly exasperated it makes Lena melt a little. “I'm the one who has to apologize,” Lena continues, leaning into Kara's touch like she's wanted to since... forever, it feels like. “I'm the one hoarding your stuff.” 

“Lena,” Kara breathes, shaking her head. “A pen or a mug, fine, but do you _honestly_ think I'd just leave my glasses—my _cape—_ like that?” 

Lena can feel her tear tracks cooling down on her cheeks as her eyes widen in surprise. “What?” 

“It's _stupid_ ,” Kara continues, and Lena can agree, all of this is so very stupid, but so very _them_ , in a way, because it's beginning to dawn on her that she and Kara are possibly, even as a genius and a super-advanced alien species, the dumbest people to have ever existed. “I _knew_ I left my things with you... and I just. I hoped you wouldn't return them.” 

“Why?” 

“Because,” Kara chokes, and it's Lena's turn to hold her face in her hands, because the Girl of Steel is smiling but also crying in her living room, and it feels like Kara Danvers needs any comfort she can possibly give. “Things were getting better, but they weren't... they weren't the _same_ , so I wanted... I wanted an excuse, Lena, _any_ excuse to come and see you again.” 

_O_ _h_. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Lena breathes out, loud and clear. “That is pretty stupid.” 

She says it, but she can't stop smiling; she couldn't, possibly, even if she tried. Which she won't. 

“So,” Kara continues, shoulders straightening a little, and her hold slackens just enough for Lena to practically throw herself into her chest. Strong arms wrap themselves around her with zero hesitation, and Kara continues speaking, tucked into Lena's neck. “Keep the stuff. Here. Keep it here.” 

“Okay,” Lena says, holding tight, tight, and Kara's holding tight, so gently, but so tightly. “Okay. The stuff stays.” 

She burrows herself deeper into Kara, in her warmth, her firmness and her softness all at once, and she laughs loud and bright when the blonde lets out a deep sigh of relief. “Good,” Kara says, hold tightening just a little. “Good.” 

“On one condition,” Lena quips, pulling back just enough so that they're face to face again, and Kara's looking a little dazed, eyes wide and bright, tongue running across her bottom lip. 

“Yeah?” 

Lena has to force her brain to refocus; she's looking at Kara's lips, her mind is fogging up, and there's this feeling swelling in her chest that she didn't think she'd ever feel again. She holds tight onto Kara's shoulders, and Kara's already beginning to lean in when Lena finally remembers to speak. 

“You stay too.” 


End file.
